What We Hold
by mikevuong14
Summary: In the Wastes, it's rare to find something worth keeping, let alone fight for. Unfortunately, ideals and morals are weighed only by the caps that any Wastelander carries in their pockets. Even worse is that in these ruined lands, the burden of carrying these things is magnified by protecting them from what savages roam them.


_**War. War never changes. **_

_** Since the dawn of time, creatures of all lands and seas fought amongst themselves. It didn't matter what the reasons were, especially among men. **_

_** Food, wealth, fame, power, or even pure sadistic joy. **_

_** How these wars were won or what was attained were of little concern in the long run, because in the end, war is the abstinence of peace. And with the absence of peace, there can be no quality of life. Therefore, war is the destruction of life. A lesson learned by all men and creatures moments too late. **_

_** Civilization as it stands is only learning to scrape by in these new Wastelands, wrought by the folly and pettiness of its forefathers. Their actions leave future generations to fend for themselves in a bleak and unforgiving world, where the sun's light, once a gesture of safety and hope for the old world, now serves to show the unsightly horrors brought upon by war. **_

_** Because war never changes, after all. **_

Life was abuzz within the mighty walls of Megaton. The fine shack town held many different meanings for the people of the Wastes. For many, it was home, a steel shelter in an otherwise bleak and dreary world. For others, it was a place in which to do casual business. Every day saw new visitors, and with them, the prospects of good trade. It was more common to hear the clink of bottle caps over the chatter of the town's residents.

Occasionally, there would be the excitement of a bar fight breaking out, or even a gunfight spilling out into the streets. In the Wastes, it didn't matter what your views were. What really mattered was whether you had something good or not. And if you did, chances were that someone would eventually come along and try to take it, potentially killing you in the process.

"Argh!" A voice rang out, clearly in pain.

"Fin'lly got ya, ya lil' punk!" a gruff voice followed immediately after. Two figures were found outside Moriarty's Saloon, a popular hangout for mercenaries and merchants to showcase their wares and services to interested parties. One of them, a young girl, was lying with her face to the ground, while the other, a middle aged man, menacingly towered over her with a Swiss Army knife.

"Come on, I didn't do anything!" the girl yelled out, trying to catch her breath. The rank smell of warm beer and cigarettes wafted off from the man above her. "Come on, ya lil' piss nug, playin' all innocent ain't gonna get you nowhere," the man advised, smirking as he said so. He brought his foot down on her back, bringing his knife and his rugged face closer to her head. Oh, how delightful it was for him to show these little Waste newbies what it meant to screw with the wrong people.

"Showin' yer face where it don't belong is gonna get you killed one a' these days, kid. Now where's those caps you took from Bellwood?" The man continued, enunciating **caps **more so than the rest of his sentence. The girl could practically smell the alcohol in his breath, and even feel the greed trickling out from between his rotten teeth.

She instinctively clutched the little package within her arms even tighter. Unfortunately for her, this told the man all he needed to know. The man took his foot off of her back, flipped her over and attempted to wring the package out of her hands.

"C'mon, you lil' rat, give it 'ere!" Both the little girl and the grizzled man each had an iron grip. As the package jerked back and forth between them, the distinct _clinking_ of bottle caps could be heard. Unlike the caps it carried or the grips of either person grappling for it, the material the package was made of was shoddy, and it wasn't long before the _clink clink clink_ of the caps was suddenly drowned out by a loud _RRRIIIIP!_

The package ripped wide open, causing bottle caps to spill everywhere. The girl fell back on her head while the man staggered back, collapsing on his rear end. He sat there, dumbstruck, still holding onto the tattered remains of the package. If he wasn't pissed about his luck today by then, he definitely was now.

"Awwwhh shee-yat, now lookit what ye've gone and done!" the man yelled.

Many onlookers, who had gathered around the commotion, now descended upon the scene, picking out the bottle caps that had spilled everywhere. The man became furious at this, and drunkenly swung his knife around at the vultures.

He screeched, "Ey, keep yer 'ands off! That's mah damn paycheck yer messin' with!" Such a slovenly display did not sway the creatures that clawed for his "paycheck,"and he was lost among the greedy swarm. His knife slipped out of his hand, and dropped at the feet of an otherwise fortunate girl.

Dazed, she scrambled fervently out of the crowd, picking up what caps lay along her path to freedom. She crawled through an orgy of limbs and grasping hands to an open air, at which point she clumsily shuffled back up into a standing position. She quickly surveyed her surroundings, detecting no immediate obstacle to her escape, and broke into a sprint.

"Ya...stinkin' brat...! I'll remember this!" the man screeched out before he was finally forced to the ground by the rapacious mob. She paid no mind to his roars, and continued running down the streets of Megaton. The only thing that hung on her mind was whether or not she had taken enough bottle caps for herself.

She took a right into a back alley, cut across the common buildings, and ran into the public commodes. The street rat slipped into one of the stalls, locked the door, and sat down on the grimy floor. She opened her palms, letting her claim for the day spill out among the garbage that littered the tiles.

In the Wastes, no one had much use for many of the old and broken things that remained after the Great War. Still though, an economy had to be established with what was available, and the one item that fulfilled all the requirements as a unit of exchange just happened to be bottle caps. Those caps may as well have been gold pieces falling from her hands.

"One, two, three, four, five..." the girl counted today's "profits." In total, she counted out about twenty-three caps, enough to feed her for two days. However, her train of thought was interrupted by a loud _BANG!_ The girl heard heavy footsteps make their way to the stalls.

"Damn Mordecai..." a woman grunted. The girl peered out underneath the stall door and saw a pair of leather boots, with iron buckles attached. Then came a banging noise at the stall door, followed by the voice asking, "Hey, there someone in here?!"

Time to make her escape.

She gathered up the caps and hid them in her little pockets and unlatched the stall door, which swung open to reveal the woman attached to those leather boots. She wore frayed britches, a T-shirt that seemed to yell out "Nuka-Cola!", and had a jacket wrapped around her waist. On top of this ordinary clothing, she wore several pieces of armor, each of which were splotched with damp red stains, around her legs and her chest, giving her the look of a barbarian. Her attire, along with her rough scarred face and short, ash brown hair painted the picture of a mercenary. All in all, she had a rough appearance, and she also seemed to be glaring down at the girl.

A few minutes had passed before the girl finally decided to inch her way out of the stall, awkwardly bypassing the woman.

She managed to stammer out, "H-hi..." before shuffling for the exit. When she had left, the woman stared, shaking her head and muttering to herself.

"Damn kids..."

The girl burst through the door and out into the Megaton streets. Looking around, the girl could see the local diner, the Brass Lantern, across the way. Although the environment seemed much livelier than before, there was no visible sign that anyone was pursuing or the loot that she now carried.

She turned around the side of the restroom and went down the ramp behind it. The commotion near Moriarty's Saloon was finally beginning to settle, so the girl decided to hasten her step. The caps jingled with every step she took. No doubt that the man would be looking for her now. She cut across one of the rooftops and gently lowered herself to the bottom of the ramparts in front. _Clink clink clink_.

The caps continued to rattle around her pockets.

The girl jumped off the ramparts down onto an abandoned mattress. The caps nearly exploded from her pockets, with her heart nearly leaping out with them. In a state of panic, her eyes darted around her surroundings, surveying if anyone had heard or seen her. Fortunately, there were only two people around, a passerby and the humble Cromwell, Confessor for the Church of the Children of Atom, neither of whom seemed to spare any attention for her.

Their interest was instead kept by the large metal construct nestled (or rather, lodged) within the crater at the center of town. Every civilian knew it to be an atomic megaton bomb, which was Megaton's symbol and namesake. They also knew it best to steer clear of it, fearing that it was still dormant.

Just beyond them was the Brass Lantern, where her daily sustenance resided. The girl got off of the mattress and scampered over to it, taking extra care to not attract any unwanted attention. Out of the corner of her ears, she could hear Cromwell and the other man speaking. Then she heard the distinct _clink_ of caps being exchanged, and she couldn't help but turn her head at the sound.

Cromwell, with hands overflowing with caps, was bowing his head to the man, and uttering, "Thank you, the Church of Atom thanks you for your generous donation!"

She turned back toward her destination, shaking her head. "What are they gonna do with the caps, _feed_ the bomb?" she scoffed, obviously dismissive of the waste of caps displayed before her. As she said that, her hands clenched tightly around her own pockets, securing themselves on the caps _clinking_ inside.

She made it to the front of the diner, propping herself up on one of the bar stools. The smell of food, mixed with a hint of sulfur, wafted from the rickety structure. The waitress, Jenny Stahl, walked up, flashing a small grin at her. She was dressed in a tattered yellow jumpsuit, with a nametag that said _Jenny_, although her dirty blonde hair was worn in a more elegant fashion than her actual attire.

"Making trouble at Moriarty's again, Katie?" she asked, chuckling to herself as she did.

Katie flashed her biggest smile at Jenny and innocently stated, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ms. Jenny!"

Jenny rolled her eyes and smiled knowingly at her. She propped herself onto the counter, taking out a pad of paper and a pencil. Flipping through a few leaves of them until she came to a dirty, blank page, she asked, "So what'll it be this time, Kate?"

Katie fished for the bottle caps in her pockets, making loud _clinking_ noises as she did so. From her little pockets, she produced several bottle caps, and placed them onto the counter. She slid them over to Jenny.

"So what can I get for these?" she inquired. Jenny perused over the caps, running the simple calculations through her head.

"Eight caps, so...eight caps'll get you a bowl of noodles, and a cup of water. That sound good enough?" she answered after a minute's thought. Katie was about to reach down into her pockets for more caps, in hopes of a better meal, were it not for the timely interruption of her stomach. Its grumbling overpowered the jingling of the caps inside her pockets, and that settled the matter for her. She quickly nodded her head in agreement with her stomach, eliciting a chuckle from Jenny.

"All right, hon, I'll have it out for you in a few minutes," Jenny pointed out, scribbling down Katie's order. She went inside the building as she did so, presumably to prepare the food. For Katie, the precious meal couldn't come soon enough; her stomach was practically begging for much needed nutrition. Barely five minutes had passed by, yet those scant moments may as well have been months for the girl. After what seemed to be an eternity, Jenny finally brought out Katie's food.

The delicious smell carried by the steam from the noodles made its way to Katie's nostrils. The scent was enough to make any Wastelander's mouth water. As soon as Jenny set the meal down on the counter, Katie immediately set to devouring it. They tasted quite bland, save for the occasional tinge of spices, but she could care less about the taste as she felt the wet, soggy noodles chip away at her hunger, bit by bit. As Katie was wolfing down the noodles, Jenny decided to pick up the caps that were lying beside the untouched bottle of water.

"So..." Jenny began as she started counting the caps. Katie looked up at her while she slurped a lone noodle from the bowl, "You know, you can't keep sneaking caps from drunks. Haven't you considered how you're actually going to earn a living around here?" Jenny inquired, counting her profits and dropping the caps into neat little stacks.

_ Ugh, __**this **__conversation again, _Katie thought, clearly tired of the topic. She slurped up the noodle and tilted her head, pretending to think it over. Finally, after a few moments of listening to the _clinking_ of the caps, she answered, "Well...I dunno. I can't really think of anything I can do around here." Jenny didn't even look up at Katie, but Katie could feel the disappointment emanating from her all the same.

While Jenny knew it wasn't her place to stand judgment over Katie's actions or determine her future, she was a bit concerned at the clear disregard that Katie held for her future. It would have been a shame to see her end up a prostitute like Nova, or like one of those abhorrent Raiders, or worse. Jenny, like every other time she'd brought the topic up, decided to try and push Katie in the right direction.

"Y'know, I hear Moira needs a hand around at Craterside Supply..." Jenny attempted to say, although Katie was paying no heed to her words. "She says she'll pay a nice rate for any kind of help, even kids, really," Jenny continued. Still, Katie paid no attention. Her eyes lurked from the empty bowl to the bottle of water, which she immediately began to drink.

"Actually, as a matter of fact, I hear she's writing a new book. And she's paying top caps for any 'assistance in research.'"

As before, however, Jenny had no luck in gaining Katie's attention, as she was more interested in finishing her water. As soon as she finished, she cheerily chirped, "Thanks, Jenny, but I gotta go!"

Katie slid off the stool and went on her way. Jenny sighed to herself and pocketed the caps. Nowadays she didn't know why she even bothered trying to talk any sense to this girl. Her train of thought was soon interrupted by another prospective diner.

Katie was walking along the dirt path to the Megaton entrance, and came across the local brahmin1. She went up to it and petted the adjacent head, listening to it _moo_ absently as the other head nudged at the dirt for something to eat. It_ mooed _again, and Katie studied the creature. She saw that it was looking rather thin, and that both sets of eyes seemed a bit more glazed over than usual.

"Guess you're hungry too, huh?" Katie mused to herself. She felt pity for the beast, but there wasn't much that she could have done for the creature.

_I mean...I could buy something for it to eat, but...I could use these caps to eat for a whole week. And besides, someone else is taking care of it…_

Katie reasoned to herself that despite its obvious hunger, the brahmiin had to have had an owner taking care of it, and must have been rationing its daily meals, much like she did. Although she felt a small twinge of guilt in the back of her mind, she decided to leave the beast to its own devices. It_ mooed_ again as she continued walking on.

She walked past the local sheriff, Lucas Simms, and another man. From the look of the man and what she cared to listen to, the man was a scavenger, and was informing Lucas of some undoubtedly troubling news out in the Wastes.

"So when was this?" Lucas asked the scavenger. "It was about a few hours ago, right around..."

Katie tuned out of the conversation by this point, having heard hundreds of other similar cases being reported.

She cut a right up onto the steep hill leading away from the entrance to Megaton, and cut around the abandoned shack. The door was locked, but she had found a duct small enough for her to squeeze through into the house. To her knowledge, no one had lived in the house for ages, so it was the perfect place for a small street rat like herself to make her home.

As soon as she was inside, Katie was met with a relative darkness, with the only light coming from the holes punched into the walls of the house. She felt her way around the house, searching for her makeshift bedding. It didn't take her too long, as she felt cardboard crunch beneath her hands and feet. Katie tried to make herself as comfortable as possible, although when she finally laid herself down, she felt a slight discomfort underneath her body.

_Oh yeah...forgot about the caps... _Katie remembered, feeling inclined to smack herself for forgetting about those. She sat up, took the caps out of her pockets, piled them onto the space behind her, and then took up her makeshift sheets and covered both herself and the caps with it. Her eyelids soon started to grow heavy, and she shifted herself around in order to make herself more comfortable for the inevitable rest. As she slowly fell asleep, the sounds of her bedsheets rustling from her movements faded along with the _clinking_ of her pile of bottle caps.

**1 Brahmiin – Mutated, two-headed cow that serve as the livestock of the Wastes; commonly seen in makeshift farms and with trading caravans. **


End file.
